Murder in the Garden District

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I climbed out of my car and immediately started sweating. Christ, I thought, tempted to loosen the uncharacteristic tie I was wearing, this better be worth it. I slammed the car door and headed for the front gate of the Palmer House. I’d been driving back from Houston when Barbara called, asking that I come by at four to meet a prospective client. She’d ordered me to wear a tie, which meant it was one of her society friends. And society friend meant deep pockets, which is always a good thing. I wiped the sweat off my forehead. So much for making a good impression, I thought as I opened the gate and headed up the walk to the house. The Palmer House was a historic landmark of the Garden District, and also happened to be the home of my landlady and employer, Barbara Castlemaine, who’d inherited it from her ďŹ rst husband. Built before the Civil War, it was a monstrous-looking Italianate house painted a dark burgundy with black shutters. Black wrought iron lacework adorned the upper and

6A46 74AA4= lower galleries that ran around the house. The big brick fence that provided it with a semblance of privacy on two sides of the lot leaned toward the sidewalk at a gravity-defying angle from the immaculately kept lawn. A black wrought iron fountain bubbled in the center of a two-foot-high box hedge. I rang the bell at precisely four o’clock. “Hey, Cora,� I said when the door opened. Cora had been Barbara’s housekeeper for as long as I’d known her, and Barbara once told me that Cora had worked at the Palmer House since she was a teenager. I had no idea how old Cora was—her face was free of wrinkles and there were no signs of gray in her hair. She was wearing her black uniform with the white apron and little hat to match. Her face creased into a smile. “Chanse! Always nice to see you.� She lowered her voice and stepped onto the porch, pulling the door almost closed behind her. “How’s your mama?� I opened my mouth to give her my standard answer, and then closed it again. Her concern was written all over her face. “Not good, Cora. She’s responding to the treatments, but . . .� My voice trailed off. I forced a smile. “We’ll see.� She took my hand and squeezed it. “I’m praying for you both.� I blinked away the excess water in my eyes. “Thank you.� “Come on, they’re waiting for you in the drawing room.� –2–

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C I followed her into the house. All the sweat dried almost immediately in the frigid temperature inside the house. I shivered, wishing I’d brought a sweater with me. Cora led me down the hall past the hanging staircase and into the drawing room, where she announced me. Barbara was seated in a wingback chair facing the door. There was another woman in the room, sitting rigidly on a sofa with her back to me. “Chanse, dear!â€? Barbara called everyone dear. She rose and gave me a kiss on both cheeks. Now in her late ďŹ fties, she was still a beautiful woman. She refused to have any work done on her face, saying with a laugh, “I earned these lines!â€? Her thick blonde hair had strands of silver woven through it. She exercised every day to keep her ďŹ gure. Even in jeans and a T-shirt, she managed to convey dignity and class. Today she was dressed in a simple black silk dress with a gold belt at the waist. She was wearing what she once jokingly referred to as her “power diamondsâ€?—huge stones at her earlobes and a long chain around her neck ending in a large yellow teardrop diamond hanging between her breasts. But her face looked wan, as though she were under some kind of a strain, and I could see a nervous tic in her right cheek. She was using the phony tone of voice she usually reserved for people she didn’t care for much. “Allow me to introduce you to Cordelia Spencer Sheehan.â€? With a warning eye roll, she led me to the front of the couch. –3–

6A46 74AA4= What in the hell could this be about? I wondered.

I knew who she was, of course—who in New Orleans didn’t? All you had to do was read the newspaper or watch the news occasionally. Louisiana’s local version of royalty pursed her lips and extended a limp, whitegloved hand to me. I wasn’t sure if she expected me to kiss it or shake it, so I took it and gave it an equally limp shake before dropping it. Cordelia Spencer Sheehan appeared to be in her seventies. She had the extreme posture of royalty—her back ramrod straight and her shoulders held high and back. Her neck was fully extended, and even though she was seated, she gave the impression of looking down her nose at me. She wasn’t classically beautiful. The nose was too prominent and her lips too thin. She was what most people would describe as striking. There were lines on her face, but the skin was still ďŹ rm. She was slender and appeared to be short, but her presence made her seem much larger. Her white hair was immaculately styled and she wore a white silk blouse beneath a dove gray jacket. A rope of almost too large to be real pearls hung around her neck. Her skirt matched the jacket, and her legs were tastefully crossed at the ankles. Her blue eyes were sharp and alert as she took me in and apparently found me wanting. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Sheehan,â€? I said, a little intimidated. “Mr. MacLeod.â€? She inclined her head slightly downward in a disdainful nod, and turned her eyes to Barbara. “You may leave us now, Barbara.â€? –4–

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C Her tone was dismissive, like Barbara was a servant. Barbara didn’t react the way I expected her to. She inclined her head respectfully and said, “Of course.â€? As she pulled the door closed behind her, she gave me an apologetic look and shrugged her shoulders. I sat down in the wingback chair Barbara had vacated. “Barbara tells me you need my help.â€? “With no offense or disrespect intended, Mr. MacLeod, I cannot express how distasteful this entire matter is to me. I never thought I would see the day when I would require the services of a private investigator. My son, Wendell, was murdered last night in our home. He was shot to death.â€? That got my attention. “And I seem to have gotten myself into a bit of a mess which Barbara assures me you can assist me with.â€? Her face and voice were completely without emotion. Her eyes never left mine. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Sheehan,â€? I said carefully. The Sheehans were to Louisiana what the Kennedys were to Massachusetts. They’d been actively involved in state and national politics since before the Civil War. The family had produced state and city legislators, mayors, governors, senators, and congressmen. The woman sitting across the coffee table from me was the daughter of a two-term governor and had also been married to a two-term governor, Bobby Sheehan. He’d died of cancer shortly after leaving ofďŹ ce. After –5–

6A46 74AA4= his death, Cordelia Spencer Sheehan had devoted herself to helping domestic-abuse victims. Her foundation, named for her late husband, operated several shelters not just in New Orleans but throughout the state. She’d been recognized for her contributions numerous times. Just a few months ago, she’d gotten some honor from the current governor that had been splashed all over the Times-Picayune. Her son, Wendell Sheehan, had been attorney general of Louisiana back in the ’90s and had served on the City Council and in the state Senate. He had run unsuccessfully for mayor in the election after the hurricane, and was rumored to be eying the Senate seat currently held by a Republican from Metairie with a penchant for prostitutes. His political enemies often contemptuously called him a liberal, like that should automatically disqualify him for ofďŹ ce. I’d voted for him for mayor, and would have gladly voted for him again for the Senate. I waited for her to go on. The silence became a bit awkward, so I asked, “Who do the police—â€? “That’s part of the problem, you see.â€? A small smile cracked her façade, but disappeared so quickly I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined it. “I am afraid they may think I did it.â€? My heartbeat accelerated. “Perhaps you should start at the beginning,â€? I said, leaning back in my chair and taking out a pen and the notepad I kept tucked into my pants pocket. She inhaled dramatically. “As you know, there was a terrible thunderstorm last night. I was in my room at –6–

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C home, reading. It was late, around eleven-thirty.â€? She cleared her throat. “I have trouble falling asleep at night, so I often read. My son wasn’t home—he’s been coming home late a lot lately. He is—was—looking into the feasibility of running for the United States Senate, and had opened a campaign ofďŹ ce. I was reading in my room when I heard the shot.â€? She closed her eyes, and her left hand went to her throat. “You can only imagine how terriďŹ ed I was. My ďŹ rst thought was of course for the children. I had no idea what had happened, if there was a burglar in the house or what. I put on my robe and went into the hallway. My granddaughter Alais—Wendell’s daughter—was just coming out of her room. I told her to stay upstairs and call the police. The poor dear was terriďŹ ed. I opened my grandson Carey’s door to make sure he was okay, but he was wearing headphones and apparently hadn’t heard anything. He didn’t even notice me. So I shut the door and went downstairs.â€? “The shot came from downstairs?â€? “Yes.â€? “Go on.â€? She gave me a withering look. “As I said, I went downstairs. The front door was wide open, and there was water all over the hallway oor—tracked in, possibly by my son. When I got to the bottom of the staircase . . .â€? She closed her eyes. “I could see my son lying in a pool of blood in the drawing room. I immediately rushed to his side, but there was no pulse. I saw the gun lying there, and I picked it up.â€? “You picked it up?â€? That hadn’t been smart, and she –7–

6A46 74AA4= didn’t strike me as being a stupid woman. But then, if I was to believe what she said, she’d gone downstairs without knowing if it was safe. She met my gaze without blinking. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I must have been in shock. When I picked it up the gun went off again. The bullet went into the oor.â€? Her hands balled into ďŹ sts. “As I was standing there, my daughter-in-law walked into the room. I immediately knew what had happened.â€? She pursed her lips again. It was clear she didn’t care for her son’s wife. “She said she’d called the police already.â€? “You didn’t see or hear anyone else?â€? She shook her head. “And outside of the family, there was no one else in the house?â€? “Not as far as I knew.â€? “And what do you think had happened?â€? “His wife shot him, of course.â€? Mrs. Sheehan didn’t bother to try to mask her contempt as she spat the words at me. “And that’s why I need you, Mr. MacLeod. I’ve already retained an attorney named Loren McKeithen, and he recommended you. He advised me to have Barbara work as a go-between.â€? I must have frowned. “Apparently you aren’t fond of Mr. McKeithen?â€? Her lips curled in what might have been considered a smile. “We’ve had our differences,â€? I said cautiously. “But I can work with Loren.â€? Loren was the one who’d gotten me into a mess –8–

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C a year ago. He’d brought me into another case, and turned on me when he didn’t like what I discovered. I didn’t trust him. “Good. The most important thing here is to protect my daughter-in-law, and the two of you will need to work together.â€? The words sounded hollow to me. And she wasn’t making sense. “But you picked up the gun,â€? I said. “You should be more concerned about—â€? Her eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t thinking clearly,â€? she snapped. “I didn’t kill my son. The notion is ridiculous. Only a fool would think I killed my own child. Obviously it was his wife. After all, it was her gun. Who else could it have been?â€? Her lips tightened. I pitied the district attorney who might have to crossexamine her. “How do you know it was her gun?â€? “She told the police it was hers.â€? “Did you wipe the gun when you picked it up?â€? “Why would I do such a stupid thing?â€? “I would think you’d be a little more concerned about having your ďŹ ngerprints on the gun,â€? I said, resisting the urge to point out that picking it up in the ďŹ rst place had been incredibly stupid. “They did a test of some sort on my hands.â€? She waved a hand. “To see if I’d ďŹ red the gun. Of course, I explained how that all happened.â€? Her smile chilled me. “The idiots didn’t test my daughter-in-law’s hands, even though I told them she’d killed him.â€? –9–

6A46 74AA4= “What does she say?â€? “She told them I killed him,â€? she sneered, “which is utter nonsense. She’s the one with everything to gain.â€? “I’ll need to speak with her.â€? “You have an appointment tomorrow morning at ten to discuss all of that—and her ridiculous story—at our home.â€? She handed me a gold-embossed card with her name and address on it, then waved her gloved hand dismissively. “I will pay you, of course, quite handsomely, through Mr. McKeithen’s ofďŹ ce. Say, a thousand dollars a day plus expenses?â€? That was almost three times my going rate. “That’s very generous,â€? I replied cautiously. I’ve always been suspicious of overly generous clients. They tend to take it for granted that I’ll be willing to break the law on their behalf. I may bend the law on occasion, but I won’t do anything that might put me behind bars. She went on as though I hadn’t said a word, her gloved ďŹ ngers tapping a steady tattoo on the couch arm. “I’m paying you to devote yourself entirely to this case, Mr. MacLeod, to the exclusion of all else, so I cannot expect you to not be compensated properly. I know you work for Barbara’s company, but she understands how important this is. And I expect results. There will also be a substantial bonus for those results.â€? “I don’t understand,â€? I said. “What kind of result

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<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C are you looking for? Proving your daughter-in-law is guilty?â€? She started laughing. It was a very unpleasant sound. She put her hand to her throat. “Oh, dear me. My daughter-in-law killed my son, Mr. MacLeod. There’s no question about that.â€? Her eyes ashed angrily. “Your job is to ďŹ nd reasonable doubt for the jury, enough maybe to keep the district attorney from prosecuting her. That’s what I’m paying you for.â€? I looked her square in the eyes. “You handled the murder weapon. You even ďŹ red it. Even if, as you say, only a fool would think you’d shot him, that’s enough reasonable doubt right there to keep your daughter-in-law out of jail. Loren is a damned good lawyer—he’d have a ďŹ eld day with that.â€? “Let me make myself clear, Mr. MacLeod,â€? she said contemptuously. “As long as there is breath in my body, no one named Sheehan will go to prison for anything. No matter what I might think of her and what she has done, my daughter-in-law is a member of my family, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that she does not spend a single night behind bars for her crime—no matter how much I would enjoy seeing that happen. And I am not about to be painted as a murderer in a court of law to save her. My son had plenty of enemies. I want you to look outside my family. Is that clear?â€? She stood up and walked to the door. “Ten o’clock tomorrow morning, Mr. MacLeod,â€? she said, turning back to me. “Do be punctual.â€?

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6A46 74AA4= I heard her heels click softly in the hallway as the door closed behind her. I poured myself a gin and tonic from the little bar in a corner of the room. It was at my lips when Barbara said from the doorway, “Pour me one of those, will you, dear? That woman would drive anyone to drink.� Barbara took the glass from me and plopped down on the sofa. I’d never seen her drink anything other than champagne—usually mixed with orange juice. She tossed the drink back like it was nothing and set the glass down on the coffee table. “I’m sorry to get you involved with that awful woman, but I didn’t have a choice,� she said. I sat in the wingback chair again. “What do you mean, you didn’t have a choice?� “Let’s just say I owe her and leave it at that.� Barbara closed her eyes. “I am truly sorry, Chanse, dear. I hope you don’t come to regret working for her, like everyone else who deals with her. But please don’t ask me to say any more.� I knew better than to press her. As the owner of Crown Oil, Barbara was the wealthiest person in Louisiana. We’d been working together for years. She’d started out as my client, when she was being blackmailed and hired me to help her. She’d slept with a pair of underage bodybuilding twins and there were pictures. The whole thing had been a setup. I’d gotten the pictures and negatives back for her and she had put me on the payroll of Crown Oil as a consultant. I did quarterly checks of the security systems at their – 12 –

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C reďŹ neries and other facilities, and made recommendations for improvements. I did background checks of prospective executives and board members, drawing on my contacts and two years’ experience working in the New Orleans police department. She’d also had me check out several men she became involved with later—when you’re the richest woman in the state, you become a target for fortune hunters. In return for these services she paid me a generous salary, more than enough to support my own investigation business and pay an assistant, considering that she owned my building and only charged me $100 a month rent for an apartment worth $1,200. In addition to the cushy consulting job, she brought me clients. I wasn’t about to upset the apple cart unnecessarily. I decided to get whatever basic information I could about the Sheehans and continue making notes. “They all lived in the same house?â€? I asked Barbara. “That must have been uncomfortable.â€? “It’s Cordelia’s house and she wouldn’t hear of them living elsewhere. Everything is Cordelia’s. She controls the money. Wendell had none of his own. I’m sure he hoped she’d die every day of his life. Imagine having that for your mother. I’d hang myself after twenty-four hours in that place.â€? “Did she tell you anything about what happened?â€? “Just that Janna killed Wendell, and she needed a private eye whose discretion could be counted on. She knew about you—that damned Loren McKeithen sent her to me.â€? – 13 –

6A46 74AA4= I felt sorry for Loren for a moment. Barbara would make him pay for this. “I’d say Cordelia should be more worried about herself than about her daughter-in-law. She not only handled the gun, she ďŹ red it. At least, that’s her story. I take it she didn’t tell you that.â€? Barbara smiled. “Well, well, well. She left that out. Seems like Cordelia’s gotten herself into a bit of trouble.â€? She seemed to enjoy the idea. I wondered what exactly she owed Cordelia for. It was obvious she detested the woman. “But knowing Cordelia, I’m sure she thinks no one would ever think she’d commit murder,â€? she added. “You nailed that one right on the head,â€? I said. “Do you know the widow?â€? “Janna? Yes, I know Janna. The poor thing had no idea what she was marrying into. I felt sorry for her. I still do.â€? She got up and poured herself another gin and tonic. Mostly it was gin, with a bit of tonic splashed in the glass. “She was what Cordelia and her sort consider a nobody—unsuitable to marry the heir to the throne. She was only in her mid-twenties when she married Wendell. She was one of his secretaries. You could have knocked us all down with a feather when it happened. I’d always assumed that if he married again it would be Monica Davis—and I’m sure Monica thought so too.â€? “And she is?â€? – 14 –

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C “Monica teaches political science at Tulane. She’d been with Wendell for years—some say even before his ďŹ rst wife died. I heard that the two of them had started up again, but that could just be talk. You know how people are—and no one really liked Janna very much, the poor thing.â€? “Why not?â€? Barbara ďŹ xed her green eyes on me. “She was from Hammond, Chanse. She had no pedigree. Her father was a janitor. She was never a debutante, never a maid or Queen of Comus or Momus or Rex. Everyone looked down on her—the same way they did me when I married Roger Palmer. I tried to be nice to her, take her under my wing, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with me. I’m sure Cordelia told her a lot of unpleasant things about me. But I could understand what she was going through, because I’d been through it myself. Until, of course, I married Charles Castlemaine and suddenly had more money than God at my disposal. The power of being richer than they are can never be underestimated.â€? She gave me a hard smile. “They’re polite to me now, but I’m not one of them. I never will be. And neither will Janna.â€? “Do you think she could have killed him?â€? Barbara didn’t answer me at ďŹ rst, and when she ďŹ nally spoke, she didn’t look at me. “He was a horrible man, Chanse, an absolutely horrible man. Every bit as awful as his mother. If Janna did kill him—and I am not saying she did—I’m certain she had her reasons.â€? – 15 –

6A46 74AA4= She glanced at her watch. “Good Lord, I have to get running. I have a meeting in half an hour.â€? She rose and walked quickly to the door. “You can see yourself out, can’t you, dear? And again, I am so sorry.â€? She winked at me. “I promise to make it up to you.â€? As I sat in my car waiting for the air-conditioning to kick into gear, I called my research assistant, Abby Grosjean. “We got a job,â€? I said when she answered. “I need you to ďŹ nd everything you can on Wendell Sheehan, his wife, Janna—hell, anything you can ďŹ nd out about the entire Sheehan family.â€? “Wendell Sheehan was killed last night,â€? Abby said. “It’s all over the news.â€? “That’s right,â€? I said. “We’re working for the Sheehan family.â€? I looked at Barbara’s house. “I need it as soon as possible. And while you’re at it, ďŹ nd out everything you can about Barbara Castlemaine.â€? “The boss? Are you sure?â€? “I’m sure.â€? I’d never checked out Barbara before. I’d always considered it an invasion of her privacy. I knew some of her secrets, of course—you couldn’t work as a private eye for someone as long as I’d worked for Barbara without learning some things about her. And from time to time she’d let something personal slip. But I’d never done a background check on her, and now my curiosity was piqued. She obviously hated Cordelia Spencer Sheehan and her son. So why would she do her a favor? – 16 –

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C Maybe I should just leave Barbara alone—she might not appreciate the intrusion into her privacy, and she was certainly my golden goose. I’d be up shit creek if I lost the Crown Oil gig, and with Abby on salary now, it wasn’t just me that would be affected. Then again, Cordelia had something on her—and for Barbara to put up with the dismissive way the old woman treated her, it had to be something really bad. Truth be told, if I was careful, the only way Barbara would ďŹ nd out was if I told her—and I could make that decision later. As for Janna Sheehan, it would be interesting to meet her. I already felt a little sorry for her—under the best of circumstances it couldn’t be easy to be that woman’s daughter-in-law. I parked in the lot alongside my house and went into the living room of my apartment on the ďŹ rst oor in the front of the building. Plopping down on the sofa, I called my best friend, Paige. Paige and I went back all the way to our college days at LSU, which now seemed a million years ago. She’d been a reporter for the Times-Picayune until last year, when she’d accepted the job as editor-in-chief at Crescent City. In that short time she’d turned the glossy monthly from a barely break-even piece of uff into a must-read for locals. When she’d been at the Times-Picayune, she’d often pulled information from the morgue for me, and while she didn’t have that same kind of access at Crescent City, she might know someone at the paper who would do her a favor. She answered on the ďŹ rst ring, breathless. – 17 –

6A46 74AA4= “Chanse! I can’t talk long—deadline looming. How’s your mother? How are you?â€? “Hanging in there, and my mother . . .â€? I hesitated. Paige had been the one to convince me to go to see her in the ďŹ rst place. “She’s responding to the treatments, but who knows?â€? “I’m so sorry . . . Look, Chanse, it’s really crazy around here right now. Why don’t I stop by later with dinner? Ryan’s visiting the kids tonight.â€? Ryan Tujague was her boyfriend. His ex-wife and two kids had lived in Mandeville since Katrina. “Have you heard about Wendell Sheehan?â€? she continued, seemingly changing the subject. “He would have to go and get himself killed right before we put the magazine to bed. Everyone around here is wondering if we’ll have jobs tomorrow.â€? “What does Wendell Sheehan’s murder have to do with the magazine?â€? I asked. “Do you ever listen when I talk to you, Chanse? The Sheehans own the Crescent City Publishing Group. I mean, he stepped down as publisher in order to launch his Senate campaign, shortly after I came to work here, but he was the one who hired me. Who knows what’s going to happen now, or who’s going to be in charge? I just pray to God it’s not his mother. But she never shows her face here. Rachel’s ďŹ t to be tied.â€? Rachel Delesdernier was Crescent City’s new publisher. I’d never met her, but Paige loved working for her. I decided not to tell her she’d never mentioned

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<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C Wendell Sheehan to me before, or that Cordelia Spencer Sheehan had hired me, at least not yet. “I’ll tell you about my mom over dinner,â€? I said. “It seems like forever since I’ve seen you.â€? The job did take a toll on her private life. Paige often worked twelve to sixteen hours a day without time off for weeks on end. It was causing problems with Ryan, as well. “Plan on me being there around seven. If we don’t have the magazine done by then, heads will roll.â€? She hung up. I grabbed an empty manila folder from the box on the bookcase next to my desk and wrote SHEEHAN on the ap, then opened a new document on my computer. I typed in the pertinent information—date and time hired, rate of pay, client, task—and stared at the cursor for a moment, hearing Mrs. Sheehan in my head. I want you to look outside my family. My son had a lot of enemies. Of course she did it! But as long as there is breath in my body, no member of this family is going to spend a single night in jail. Maybe it was my years in the NOPD, but I didn’t like the idea of helping someone get away with murder. It was why I had never considered going to law school. I have very clear opinions about people who commit crimes. You do the crime, you do the time. The notion that there was a separate justice for the rich went against everything I believed in. But something else was bothering me. Cordelia

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6A46 74AA4= Spencer Sheehan might be any number of things, but she was not stupid. So why, if she was innocent, would she pick up the gun that had obviously been used to kill her son? Even if she was in shock, as she claimed, it wasn’t natural. The natural thing would have been to scream, or go to her child, or even faint. Why on earth did she pick up the gun? Maybe she honestly believed that despite the evidence, her word would be enough for the police and the district attorney. And maybe she was right. She was rich, powerful, and well respected throughout the state. She was also well connected. Probably she could use her pull to quash the investigation. That was how things worked in Louisiana. So why hire me? There was a hell of a lot more here than I was being told. I also wasn’t convinced that what she’d said was true. My instinct was to remove myself from the case. I don’t like it when clients lie to me, especially when the lies are so obvious they wouldn’t fool anyone. They certainly wouldn’t fool the police. “Stick to the facts, Chanse,� I said out loud. “It’s entirely possible she did exactly what she said she did. Smart people have done stupider things.� And then there was the Barbara angle. For whatever reason, she owed Cordelia, and was using me to pay off that debt. I certainly owed Barbara a lot myself. The least I could do was get that awful woman off her back. But Cordelia Spencer Sheehan didn’t strike me as the sort who would forget whatever debt Barbara owed – 20 –

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C her just because I’d taken on this case. Whatever she had on Barbara gave her power over her, and Cordelia Spencer Sheehan enjoyed power and control. She kept her entire family on a leash. Life in that house must be one hell of a freak show. It was time to get to work.

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Janna Sheehan was a beautiful woman, despite the dark circles under her gray eyes. In her early thirties, with long, thick auburn hair, she had clear, smooth skin the color of white porcelain. I could see blue veins in her long throat. She was short, barely ďŹ ve feet tall, with a tiny waist and ample hips. She looked as though she weighed less than a hundred pounds. Given the size of her frame, her breasts seemed almost too large to be real underneath her green Tulane T-shirt. We were sitting in a gazebo behind the Sheehan mansion on St. Charles Avenue. A ceiling fan whirred overhead, but it wasn’t providing enough breeze to keep me from sweating, and the glass of iced tea wasn’t helping any more than the fan. My shirt was soaked. Janna had led me out here so we could speak without being overheard by anyone. I’d thought it odd, but acquiesced. She blew a cloud of smoke out of her mouth and gave me a brittle smile. “Of course she killed him,â€? she

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<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C said. “But how would I know why? Cordelia doesn’t share that kind of information with me.â€? “Just tell me what happened the night of the murder.â€? She icked ash into a green glass ashtray. “I was waiting up for Wendell. He’d been coming home late more and more, saying he was working on strategy and so forth for the campaign. Whether he was doing that or not, I don’t know. I had my suspicions. He often came home smelling like a brewery.â€? She gave me a tired look. “I didn’t much care one way or the other, but that night I needed to talk to him. I’d been putting it off for a while and it was getting to the point I couldn’t wait any longer. I was in my room—it’s right at the top of the stairs, the ďŹ rst door—and I saw his headlights from my window. I went to the window and saw him get out of the car in the rain. He was drunk again. I got scared and decided it could wait another night.â€? “You were afraid of your husband?â€? “Does that surprise you? It’s why I bought the gun in the ďŹ rst place.â€? “Had he been violent with you?â€? She looked down and nodded. “Only when he was drinking,â€? she said quietly. “Anyway, it wasn’t too long after that I heard the ďŹ rst shot.â€? “What did you do then?â€? She raised her head and looked me in the eyes. “I was terriďŹ ed. I called 911, then opened my door and looked out—to try to see what was going on. Alais and Carey’s doors were closed, and I could see the front door was

– 23 –

6A46 74AA4= open. The house was silent. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. But I couldn’t just stay there. I was about halfway down the stairs when I heard the second shot. I ran the rest of the way, and saw Cordelia in the drawing room with a gun in her hands. And then I saw Wendell. I think I may have screamed.â€? Her body shook for a moment. “And then the police came,â€? she whispered. “Did you know it was your gun?â€? She smiled weakly. “The police told me later. My initials are engraved in the handle.â€? She shook her head bitterly. “Obviously, Cordelia took it to frame me. Why else would she use my gun? There are enough guns in the house to hold off the Yankee army. She probably never thought I’d get downstairs fast enough to catch her in the act. The gun would have my ďŹ ngerprints on it, wouldn’t it? My guess is that she was going to shoot him, drop the gun, and then pretend to ďŹ nd the body. Unfortunately, I got downstairs before she could ďŹ nish setting me up.â€? She reďŹ lled her glass from the sweating pitcher of iced tea on the table between us. Cordelia had said that Janna told the police it was her gun. I decided to play along and see what else she had to say. “Mrs. Sheehan—â€? “Janna,â€? she interrupted me. “Cordelia is Mrs. Sheehan. I’m just plain Janna.â€? “All right, Janna.â€? I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “It wasn’t very smart to go downstairs. You should have stayed in your room until the police came.â€? – 24 –

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C “Good thing I didn’t. If I hadn’t caught her in the act, I’d be in a cell right now.â€? “You didn’t think to at least take a weapon with you? If there are so many guns in the house—â€? She took another drink. “I looked for my gun but it wasn’t there. So I took the ďŹ replace poker from my room.â€? That made even less sense. I changed tack. “You and your mother-in-law didn’t get along?â€? She barked out a harsh laugh. “Cordelia was delighted when her son married a nobody. She welcomed me into the family with open arms.â€? She viciously crushed her cigarette in the ashtray. “But seriously, it was a year before she ďŹ nally stopped referring to me as ‘Wendell’s mistake.’ She had big plans for the Crown Prince. This Senate race was just the start. She thought that I’d embarrass him somehow. Like I was too stupid to be nice to everyone and keep my mouth shut about policy. Please. It wasn’t my fault he lost the mayoral race, no matter how much she blamed me for it. My role was to look pretty and smile a lot, play the adoring wife. And I did it well.â€? “Your husband stepped out of public life after serving one term as attorney general, and didn’t return until the 2006 mayoral race. Why was there such a long break in his political career?â€? “Grace died. His ďŹ rst wife. Alais’s mother.â€? She took another cigarette from the pack, looked at it, and returned it to the pack. “He never talked about it, I never asked. All I know is – 25 –

6A46 74AA4= she died, and he left politics for a while. Around here, sometimes it’s better not to know things.â€? That was interesting. “How long after she died before he married you?â€? “Four or ďŹ ve years, I think.â€? She looked past me and stood up. I turned in my chair and saw a teenager walking across the lawn toward us, his head down, as though he was fascinated with the white Air Jordans on his feet. He appeared to be about thirteen or so, tall and gangly, his arms and legs barely skin and bone, ending in enormous feet and hands, in an oversized Coldplay T-shirt and a pair of long checkered shorts that almost reached his knobby knees. His hair was so blond it looked white, and he had the same pale skin as Janna. I suppressed a grin. I’d been tall and skinny when I was that age. As he climbed the steps into the gazebo, I noticed the white down on his bare legs and a rash of pimples across his cheek. He stared at Janna, his lower lip sticking out in an angry pout, towering over her as I had over my own mother at that age. Like Janna, he had dark circles under his blue eyes. “It’s time for swim practice, Mom,â€? he mumbled, barely audible. “Grandma says it’s not a good idea.â€? He didn’t acknowledge my presence with so much as a glance. “All right, Carey.â€? She nodded to me. “Carey, this is Chanse MacLeod, the investigator your grandmother hired.â€? “How do you do.â€? He still didn’t look at me. “Can I go to practice, Mom?â€? he mumbled, a plea in his voice. – 26 –

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C Her jaw tightened; her lips compressed into a tight line that she forced into a big smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Fortunately, she’s not your mother. It’s ďŹ ne with me. It’ll do you some good to get out of the house. Go.â€? His face lit up. “Thanks, Mom!â€? He bent down and kissed her cheek, and was gone in a rushed tangle of arms and legs. She watched him go. The smile on her face didn’t fade until I heard the door to the main house slam behind me. She turned back to me, her eyes ashing angrily. “Cordelia thinks we should lock ourselves up to mourn properly. Carey’s thirteen and I’d rather he spend a few hours in the pool with his mind on something else than mope around this house.â€? She gave me a rather ugly smile. “He’s my son, no matter how much she wants to forget that.â€? “Are they close?â€? Her voice softened. “I’ll give her that, she treats Carey like he’s blood. She always has. It’s his mother she has a problem with.â€? “How long were you and Wendell married?â€? This time she lit the cigarette. “Wendell wasn’t Carey’s father, if that’s where you’re going with this. Wendell adopted him after we were married.â€? “And Carey’s father?â€? “Carey’s father has nothing to do with this. That’s ancient history, and there’s no need to dredge it all up again.â€? She blew smoke at me. “I was nineteen, and we weren’t married. We’ll just leave it at that.â€? – 27 –

6A46 74AA4= I was curious why Janna didn’t want to talk about his biological father, but changed the subject. I could have Abby get a copy of Carey’s birth certiďŹ cate. “So, what was so important that night that you had to talk to Wendell about?â€? “My marriage was a mess,â€? she said harshly. “If there was any way I could have, I would have left him and gotten a divorce. The marriage had been over for several years. But Wendell—and his mother—worried about what it might do to his campaign. A divorce might hurt his attacks on the Metairie whoremonger if he didn’t have a loving wife at his side. And the campaign was the important thing, you know.â€? “You didn’t need their permission to get a divorce,â€? I pointed out. Her eyes ashed. “That’s true. I signed a prenup— Cordelia saw to that—so I would get nothing in a divorce.â€? She seemed to deate. “How could I ďŹ ght them for my kids with no money? A few months ago, I packed some suitcases and checked into the Monteleone, to ďŹ gure things out. She came to see me and ordered me to come back. She told me if I tried to get a divorce, if I ruined his chances at this Senate seat, they’d ďŹ ght for full custody of the children. I couldn’t abandon the kids like that, Mr. MacLeod. No matter how bad it was for me here, I had no chance in court against them. They have the money, the power, and the connections. I’d never see my kids again. And I would never leave those kids in their hands. Look at the great job Cordelia did

– 28 –

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C with Wendell. She wasn’t going to be in charge of my kids. So I came back.� “You’re close to your stepdaughter?� “I couldn’t love Alais more if she were mine.� She pulled another cigarette from the pack and lit it. “If Wendell had his way, Alais would be up at Ole Miss right now. I stood up to him, convinced him she needed a semester off. He didn’t care about her, he never did. And Cordelia? Alais is a girl, useless to her and her plans. Cordelia is hopelessly old-fashioned. Even with Mary Landrieu in the Senate, it never occurred to her that Alais could go into politics. Not that she wanted to. “I was stupid to think they’d let me go. And I know my saying that gives me a motive—I couldn’t get a divorce so I had to kill him, right? But I didn’t kill him. Cordelia did. And no matter how hard she tries to pin this on me, she can’t. Because the truth is she killed him. I saw her with the gun.� A weak smile played at her lips. “And won’t the truth set me free?� I debated with myself about telling her that Cordelia had hired me to throw suspicion elsewhere. Surely Janna must know this. But then why act as though she didn’t? I decided to keep playing along. “When did you and Wendell start having problems?� Janna unfolded her arms and looked over my shoulder. “When I married him, it was like an old movie, you know? The secretary marries the boss and lives happily ever after. But those movies never show what it’s like after the wedding. There’s a reason why that

– 29 –

6A46 74AA4= doesn’t happen very often in real life. Men from the Garden District shouldn’t marry janitors’ daughters from Hammond. True love doesn’t conquer all. That’s for fairy tales, lies they tell little girls. I didn’t ďŹ t in. I didn’t belong here. But when Wendell loved me I could deal with the snide looks and snubs and whispers. I could even handle Cordelia.â€? She drummed her ďŹ ngernails on the table. “Cordelia hated me from the moment I arrived in her precious house on the Avenue, the miserable old bitch, no matter how much I tried to ďŹ t in. It took about four years for me to realize that Wendell married me precisely because I didn’t, to rebel against his mother. The more I changed—the more I learned about spoons and forks and how a Garden District wife is supposed to act and behave—the less he liked it. Do you know what he told me once? If I’d wanted my wife to be a lady, I would have married the real thing.â€? The pain in her eyes was difďŹ cult to bear, so I looked down at my hands. “And it eventually became physical?â€? I asked softly. “About three years ago, when our marriage began to fail, he became abusive. At ďŹ rst it was emotional—insulting me in front of people, demeaning me in any way he could think of—and then it became physical. Four months ago, he came home drunk one night, and we argued. He called me every name in the book. And then—â€? She grabbed the edge of the table. “He raped me.â€? She held up her right hand. It was shaking. A tear rolled out of her left eye and slid down her face. She – 30 –

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C took a deep breath, wiped her face, and went on. “He also sprained my wrist. That’s when I left. After Cordelia forced me to come back, I bought a gun and began taking lessons at the ďŹ ring range in Metairie. That wasn’t going to happen again. Ever.â€? “I’m sorry,â€? I said lamely. “We can ďŹ nish this another time.â€? She had the grace to give me a weak smile. “Thank you,â€? she said, touching my hand. “But no. It helps to talk about it.â€? I reached for her hand, but decided it might not be appropriate to take it. “Then please take me through it, every detail. You said you were waiting up for him that night. You had something you wanted to talk to him about?â€? “I had some news for him I’d been putting off for several days, but I knew I couldn’t keep it from him forever. Especially not in this house. I’d decided to wait up for him, no matter how late he was, and talk to him. In spite of everything, I still loved him. I know that sounds crazy.â€? She shook her head, and looked down at her hands. She was tearing a paper coaster to shreds. She took a drink from her water glass. “I thought my news would change things. If I couldn’t get a divorce, if we had to stay married, I thought surely we could work something out. It would never be what it was before, but we had to be able to come to some kind of understanding.â€? “And what was your news?â€? – 31 –

6A46 74AA4= She went on like I’d not said a word. “It was about eleven-thirty, I think, when his car pulled into the driveway. My bedroom windows open on the driveway, so I saw his headlights. I went to the window and looked out. I watched him get out of his car in the rain, and I could tell he was drunk again. Such an idiot. We couldn’t get a divorce because of how it might look, but he didn’t have a problem risking a ticket every night for driving drunk. If he and Cordelia could just get their minds out of the 1950s they’d have realized that divorce is not a death sentence in politics. Ronald Reagan was divorced, for God’s sake. But a drunk driving arrest? Kiss your political ass goodbye. I might be a nobody from the North Shore, as Cordelia likes to remind me at every opportunity, but I do know that much.� “So, he was drunk?� I made a note to get a copy of the autopsy report. “Oh, yes. I went to my desk to get my gun, but it wasn’t in the drawer.� “So, you knew the gun was gone before you heard the shots?� She looked down at her hands. The silence became uncomfortable. “Yes.� Her voice was practically a whisper. My lips pressed together. Cordelia Spencer Sheehan had just gotten an award from the governor for her work with abused women—and her daughter-in-law was being abused right under her nose. “Did Cordelia know about the abuse?� – 32 –

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C “She isn’t deaf, dumb, and blind.â€? Janna’s voice was brittle. “If it weren’t for the kids, I would have gone to one of those shelters she raises all that money for. Maybe I should have. Talk about scandal! But she always reminded me that his career was more important. Think of all the good he’s going to do when he’s in the Senate.â€? She mimicked Cordelia’s voice perfectly. “He was still a monster.â€? “And when you saw that your gun wasn’t there?â€? “I decided that the talk with Wendell could wait. I didn’t know how he’d react, but I wasn’t going to let myself be hurt again.â€? She sounded resigned, defeated. She took another drink of tea. “At that time, did you wonder what had happened to the gun?â€? “I didn’t think about it. All that mattered was that it wasn’t there. I ďŹ gured Wendell had taken it. That was his style.â€? She looked out over the lawn again. “Go on,â€? I said gently. “I turned off my lights and locked my bedroom door and went to bed. Until I heard the gunshot.â€? “And then what happened?â€? “It startled me. I’d ďŹ red the gun enough times to know what it sounded like.â€? She balled her hands into ďŹ sts. “I got out of bed, unlocked my door, and called 911. I was on the stairs when I heard the second shot. I went to the drawing room and saw Wendell lying on the oor with blood everywhere. Cordelia was standing, – 33 –

6A46 74AA4= with the gun in her hands, looking at him. And then she saw me. She dropped the gun and said something about calling the police. I told her I already had, that they were on their way.â€? She closed her eyes and shuddered. “I checked for a pulse, and there wasn’t one. I went across the hall to the library to wait for the police to show up. That was when I noticed that the front door was open, and there was water all over the oor. I assumed Wendell had tracked it in—it was really pouring outside. But I couldn’t understand why he didn’t close the door behind him. Too drunk, I suppose.â€? “Who else was in the house?â€? “Cordelia, of course, and the kids. They’d gone up to their rooms after dinner. About ten, I went in to say good night to them in their rooms.â€? She smiled faintly. “Carey had his headphones on, he always does. Alais was already asleep.â€? “Anyone else?â€? “We don’t have live-in help—Vernita, the one who let you in, leaves every day at six—and ever since Rachel and Quentin moved out—â€? “Rachel and Quentin?â€? “Quentin is Wendell’s cousin, and Rachel is his wife. They moved out about a month ago. Wendell didn’t much care for them, and even though they were in the pool house—â€? She pointed behind me. The small building was just beyond the pool.

– 34 –

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C “It was still too close, as far as Wendell was concerned.� “And there was no one else in the house?� I pressed. “Not to my knowledge.� “Do you know where the children were?� “They said they were in their rooms.� “They didn’t hear the shots?� “I assume they had their headphones on. They always do.� “And they all had access to your gun?� “I never lock my room unless I am going to bed,� she said. “So, yes, they could have. Vernita and the maid who comes twice a week had access to it as well, obviously, whenever they were in the house.� “When was the last time you saw the gun?� “I went to the shooting range three days ago. When I got back, I cleaned it and put it away.� “When you found your husband, did you see or hear or notice anything out of the ordinary?� “Besides my husband’s body? I wasn’t really paying attention. I was in shock. The police found the safe in the drawing room was open—� Cordelia hadn’t mentioned anything about the safe. Given her instructions, I found this odd. If the safe was open, there was a possibility that Wendell had caught someone robbing it. But how would a burglar have gotten Janna’s gun? A half-decent lawyer could convince a jury someone else could have killed Wendell, even with Cordelia picking up the gun.

– 35 –

6A46 74AA4= “Was anything missing?� I asked. “Had the safe been broken into?� “I wouldn’t know. I didn’t have access to the safe. Any jewelry I had that was worth anything is in a safety deposit box at the bank. Wendell never gave me the combination to the safe. I have no idea what he and Cordelia kept in there. You’d have to ask her. Or the police.� I moved on. “You said that it was about three years ago that your marriage troubles started. Around the time of Katrina?� “That didn’t help, but no, the trouble started before then, in the spring, right after Mardi Gras, I think.� She closed her eyes, thinking back, and opened them again. “Yes, things started to deteriorate around then.� “Any idea why?� She went to the sideboard and poured herself a glass of ice water, took a long drink, then sat down and faced me again. “The initial problem was Carey, my son. You have to understand a few things about this family, all right? Cordelia’s family, the Spencers—well, they were the closest thing to royalty we had in Louisiana, and she was the last one of them. When she was young, things were different. The notion of Cordelia carrying the family banner into politics was just not possible. So her father married her off to Willy Sheehan. The Sheehans were another political family, just not as prominent or as long established as the Spencers. All the Spencer eggs were put in the Sheehan basket, if you want to mix a metaphor. Wendell was their only son. His cousin Quentin – 36 –

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C had no interest in politics, and Wendell’s only child was a girl. After we’d been married four years it looked like I wasn’t going to give them a crown prince any time soon, so he and Cordelia decided to turn Carey into the royal heir. Wendell had already adopted him.� Her eyes glinted. “And I wouldn’t allow it. I made it clear that my son wasn’t going to be railroaded into politics unless he wanted it. I think Cordelia would cheerfully have shot me. Things were never the same after that.� “And Carey’s father? How involved was he in your son’s life?� Her face hardened. “He has nothing to do with Carey—Carey’s never even met him. Leave him out of this.� “I can’t promise the police will do that.� She laughed. “Please, Mr. MacLeod. Cordelia killed Wendell. I saw her with the gun. But she’s Cordelia Spencer Sheehan and she’s connected. Everyone in this state owes her favors. She isn’t going to jail. She’ll lie— hell, she already has—and they’ll come after me.� “Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid?� “You don’t know my mother-in-law. There’s no such thing as being too paranoid where she’s involved. Trust me on that. Cordelia is an amazing liar, Mr. MacLeod, and she’s been around the block a few times in her life. Her husband was governor, for God’s sake. Do you really think the district attorney is going to want to take on the Sheehan family? I’m sure she’s already pulling strings, making calls. Evidence will be lost. Welcome to Louisiana politics, Mr. MacLeod. It’s is a very ugly business.� – 37 –

6A46 74AA4= “But won’t being a Sheehan help you in the same way?� “In Cordelia’s mind, I am not a Sheehan—not by a long shot.� “Do you think any of your husband’s political enemies could have killed him?� “I told you, Cordelia killed him. But she doesn’t hold all the cards this time out. This time, I hold the trumps, and today she and I are going to have a little chat.� She leaned back in her chair, smiling slyly. “What do you mean?� “She doesn’t know yet, but when I drop my little bombshell, she’ll stop telling the police and everyone else that I killed her precious son. After all those years of trying, he had to rape me to get me pregnant. And it’s the long hoped for crown prince.� She got up out of her chair, walked over to the railing and leaned against it, facing me. “I’m carrying the last Sheehan son. I’m sure Cordelia won’t want her grandchild born in prison. She’s going to have to pin her crime on someone else. Things are going to be a lot different around here from now on.� My head was spinning. Return the retainer and walk out of here, don’t get involved with these people, a voice whispered in of my head. But I, too, was caught in a trap not of my own making. If I dropped this case, whatever hold Cordelia had over Barbara would blow up in my face. I could lose my cushy job with Crown Oil. And Cordelia Spencer Sheehan undoubtedly had friends in Baton Rouge who could pull the necessary – 38 –

<DA34A 8= C74 60A34= 38BCA82C strings to get my license revoked. There wasn’t any way I could get out of this case. I stood up and offered Janna my hand across the table. “Thank you, Mrs. Sheehan—Janna. If I have any other questions, I’ll give you a call.â€? She took a card from her purse and slid it across the table, then shook my hand. “Those are my cell and private phone numbers,â€? she said. “Call anytime.â€? She went down the gazebo steps and along the walk to the back of the main house. The door shut behind her. As I crossed the lawn, I reviewed what I knew. Janna wasn’t telling me the whole truth, which meant she probably wasn’t telling the police either. Shots ďŹ red, and she comes downstairs with a poker? That was almost as stupid as Cordelia picking up the gun. What was she hiding? I walked around to the front of the house and stood there. The property was deďŹ nitely a showplace. Surrounded by an eight-foot-high brick fence for privacy, the lot took up the entire block and was ďŹ lled with gigantic live oaks. The house itself, a variation of the Greek-revivalstyle raised cottage with a double gallery at the front and a third oor with gables, faced the uptown side of the street. A fountain bubbled in the area delineated by the circular driveway, which ended in two electronic gates. I’d driven my own car through the gate to my right. It was still open, presumably so I could leave. On the other side of the fence, I could hear the trafďŹ c on St. Charles. – 39 –

6A46 74AA4= I opened the car door and hesitated. Something wasn’t right. I stood in the driveway. Wendell Sheehan’s black Mercedes was there, presumably where he’d left it the night he died. I walked over to it and glanced up at the second oor of the house. The big windows on the right must be Janna’s bedroom. Then it hit me. Janna had said her room was at the top of the stairs. How on earth did Cordelia get to Wendell before Janna did, if they both came down almost immediately after hearing the shot? Even if Janna had stopped to call 911, she should have gotten to the ďŹ rst oor long before Cordelia. Cordelia claimed she’d looked in on both her grandchildren and only then come downstairs. Yet according to Janna, Cordelia was already in the drawing room when she got there, and she’d heard the second shot while she was on her way down. What the hell had happened that night? I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Janna’s number. It switched immediately to voice mail. I hung up and tried the other number. “Sheehan residence,â€? a female voice answered. “This is Chanse MacLeod, I just met with Mrs. Janna Sheehan.â€? I made my voice as charming as possible. “May I speak with her, please? I forgot something I needed to ask her.â€? “Mrs. Sheehan is resting and asked not to be disturbed. I’ll let her know you called.â€? The phone disconnected. My job had just gotten a lot harder. – 40 –

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